UNSALVAGEABLE in NYC
by foxdvd
Summary: This isn't unsalvageable yet, not until you walk out here without going back there first  SequelCompanion piece to VOID  Apologies to those of you who'll get in thrice!


**A/N: ** Many people wanted a continuation of "Void", so here it is… well… sort of. This still isn't adequate for minors, so any out there, please scoot!

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"Fuck… fuck… fuck… FUCK!"

A tad too late for regrets now, don't you think? Actually, a tad too late for abso-fucking-lutely everything, since you just managed to screw up a working relationship that took you years to build. What was that again? For want of a nail…?

Oh, for crying out loud, stop whining! Suck it up like a grown woman and stop behaving like a stupid teen. Allow your inner Winona to tell you to "Lick it up" and be done with it. So, yeah, you kissed him. And yeah, he turned you down. And, oh yeah, in between them two he kissed you back like there was no tomorrow. And for a second there wasn't. A tomorrow. Only right then existed, and for that, the moment was perfect. It was more than perfect.

It was worth it.

Worth it cause now you know for sure how that mouth of his feels against your own. Worth it cause now you know exactly how low his voice goes when he moans. Worth it cause now you know how your skin reacts under his touch and, better yet, how his skin reacts under yours. Worth it cause it DOES react. Boy, does it ever! And the knowledge of that is exactly what makes this whole fuck up so fucking worth it.

Now all you have to do is repeat that some three zillion times until you believe it no matter from what angle you look at it and we'll move on with our lives. We might actually manage to keep working by his side as if nothing ever happened. We might even shrug the whole thing off if he requests to work with someone else. We might even avoid having to cry ourselves to sleep for the rest of our miserable existences.

But hey… it was worth it.

Why are you closing your eyes? Don't tell me you're ashamed. And don't give me that chicken shit excuse of you being tired. You KNOW what that friggin' _whomp_ in there was. You've heard it a couple of times before and you know what follows: a nice trip into ER to have his hand looked at.

Cool it, Florence; you certainly ain't going back there to see if he broke something. He'll yell for help if he really needs it, so drop the Mother Theresa act. Shame on you, girl, I was hoping you were better than that… recurring to a "he might be hurt" ruse to go back in there and pretend nothing happened is low, even for you. Way. Too. Fucking. Low. So don't even think about it, hun.

You can do better than that.

A helluva lot better than that. If you really wanted a piece of that hunk of a man in there, you'd barge right back in there, push him into a chair, straddle him and kiss him until neither one of you had a drop of breathable air inside your lungs. And then you'd kiss him again. And again. And again. Until he was practically begging you to put him out of his misery… or he was doing you on top of the conference table, whichever happened first…

And since I don't see you even MOVING in that direction I'm thinking that you don't really want him. Yeah. Thought so.

Whaddaya mean, "leave me alone"? I'm all in for the ride, sweetie pie, get it straight into your head. I, unlike others I know, ain't no quitter. You, on the other hand…

Damn right I'm calling you a coward. Chicken. Yellow. Cold-feet Madonna. Insufferable virgin. Looser. Scaredy cat. Walking fuck-up… should I go on? Cause no matter how you call it, truth is, you aren't going back in there. You don't have the necessary _cojones_ luv, so don't waste your time or mine.

Sure, the memory is nice, and I'm pretty sure your poor purple vibrator is going to get worn down real thin remembering every single detail of what went on in there. But what's going to happen once it's the memory that runs thin? How are you going to feed it? Or are you planning on letting it die along with your working relationship?

Oh, you're hilarious. Go find a stand-up bar, why don't you? You'd be a hit… a real hoot, actually. "You haven't lost your working relationship because you're both professionals". Are you fucking kidding me? You were virtually dry humping each other inside that conference room and you have the gall to call that "professional"? Get outta here! "¨Professional" my ass. Oh, wait. Maybe that's just it, huh? Professional ass, professional whore? And you expect people to take you seriously…

If you wanted people to take you seriously you should have stuck to teaching. But you wanted to play rough with the boys. Heck, you wanted to be one of the boys. And unless you grew a set while I wasn't looking, you never got that wish granted. Too bad for your so-called hard-earned respect, but really good for him, cause otherwise he'd be having serious doubts about his manliness if he were falling for you.

Oh, right, sorry, I forgot, he ain't "falling" for you. That thing that didn't happen back there was nothing. Uh-huh. I'm sure it's perfectly normal for two people to be standing on both sides of the same wall, crumpled down on chairs, tears streaming down their cheeks… and all over nothing.

Hypocrite. You know he's crying. You know him better than he knows himself sometimes, and then some. You know the sound of his sobs, as they manage to break your heart every time you witness them… and you feel so fucking useless not knowing what to do. Just as you're PRETENDING to do so, right now. Come, on, Blondie, he ain't crying over some ghosts from his past this time around. Those tears have your name written all over them, just as yours have gotten his, and you're gonna pretend it ain't happening?

Man, talk about dense. De-nial sure runs deep this time of the year, huh? So why don't you just go and fucking drown in it, for Heaven's sake? Cool, calm, collected… PROFESSIONAL… yeah, I've heard all that bullshit before. Huge pile the size of the CN Tower, if you ask me. Quite stinking, too. Not that you'd notice, since you've got your head buried so deep inside of it you don't even SEE around you anymore. Not that you'd care. Work and appearances first, feelings seconds… if there's time for those kinds of things, that is. Wake up and smell the ammo, you idiot. You're going to REALLY loose him if you walk out of this building before you walk back into that room, and YOU know it. He knows it too, but he's too much of a man to do anything about it. You, on the other hand…

Fine… fine! Have it your way, Miss Know-it-all. Miss I-don't-give-a-shit. I'm just doing my job here. Or trying to. Contrary to what you might think, the whole thing isn't unsalvageable yet. It will, the moment you turn around to leave, but not just yet. You do understand that, don't you? That it's up to you to finish what you started? Cause he sure ain't gonna do anything about it, he's just too scared to loose you, or to even admit it to himself. But if you walk back in there… if he sees that you aren't mad at him… if he has hope that maybe, just maybe, there's a chance he didn't blew this… he might be a tad more participative… oh, for the love of Christ! Who cares who boinks whom as long as there's boinking going on??? Stop being such a moron, you asshole…

That's it girl. See how he wiped his face when he heard the door open? Notice how his nostrils flared when he realized it was you? Look carefully now… can you see the way he's looking at you, wondering if you've gone in there to tell him to go fuck himself? Can you see the hope in the back of his all-too-male mind, hoping against hope that you might actually be coming back to tell him to just fuck you? Wouldn't it be worth it all just to see the look on his face if you actually blurted that out?

Sorry… got a bit carried away there for a moment…

Four steps. That's all you have to do, take those fucking four steps that separate you from him. The part of me that makes you act without noticing anymore already made sure you locked the door behind you, and it's so late no one is going to come looking for you in here.

A little help would be nice, whatcha say? I'm good, but I can't move the whole you if you don't put that foot forward. Nice, see? Easy, too. One down, three more to go. Oh, and doesn't he look adorable, all confused and turned on? Or is that a gun in his pocket?

Focus on the way his eyes keep straying down to your mouth. Focus on the way he's licking his lips. Focus on the way his hands are slowly clenching and unclenching by his side. Focus on how he's closed the distance by taking one step forward. Focus on what your heart and body are now screaming at you…

I'm gone…. I'm so gone…

Fuck, he kisses good!

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**A/N: ** This wasn't as angsty as the other one now, was it? Maybe cause she knows what he said was just BS…


End file.
